Sithee – God of South Yorkshire

August 4, 2019October 15, 2020 ~ Hannah ~ 3 Comments

Nah then.

Sithee is the God of the desolate industrial wasteland* that stretches from Chesterfield to Wakefield. He represents this benighted county with a Thorne in its side. He is the county’s own God. Sithee is a deity of many avatars. He has died and been re-incarnated at least 25 times. With each death more dramatic and poignant than the last. He is one of the few deities to be a martyr to his own faith. Between each incarnation, his priesthood will form a circle and chant the word “Bastard” over and over until he is born again.

Sithee has two sacred animals. The first is a duck which is constantly on the wing. It is said to never, ever land. In short, this duck is always up. The second is a mighty water serpent, which likes to coil in t’bath. Sithee consorts with a celestial harem of promiscuous concubines, known (somewhat unkindly) as “The Slag Heap”. He is sometimes depicted with his ceremonial weapon, used for stabbing his enemies in the guts, called the “Tripedent”.

Sithee’s priesthood maintain his temples and conduct the “Reyts” of worship. The music for these rituals is supplied by a live former-colliery brass band playing traditional South Yorkshire classical tunes, such as “Don’t You Want Me Baby”. For occasions of great gravitas, they will play the hoviest of hymns, Largo from Dvorak’s New World Symphony. At the climax of the Reyt a cup of tea is shared amongst the congregation as a kind of communion. A proper Yorkshire brew is made in the ceremonial tea pot. Which is never washed. The oldest of these ceremonial tea pots has such thick tannin deposits inside that it barely holds a thimbleful of tea.

There are four temples of Sithee, located in Sheffield, Rotherham, Barnsley and Doncaster. Each temple is the centre of a different sub-sect of the church of Sithee. The sects can be distinguished by what they call a narrow passage between two houses, and by what they will serve you when you ask for a fishcake. One does not simply walk into a Temple of Sithee. It used to be that the best way to get there was by the much missed Eagle Cars. Nowadays, pilgrims are dashed to the temple at a terrifying speed, through countless red lights by Chitty Taxis. Don’t try to get there on the 120 bus. It will only get you to Halfway (and you’ll be robbed if you try to get there on the 52 as it has Crookes on it). You can’t use your own car to get there as, strangely, there is no parkin nearby.

Every year Sithee demands a tribute. One night each summer, unwary Offcumdens are herded into t’Wicker Ski Village, and the whole thing is set ablaze. It is then rebuilt ready for next year’s ritual burning. One year, Diana Rigg was nearly accidentally ignited. The priesthood were momentarily confused by her theatrical R.P. English and put her into the rattan chalet. As the flames started to take hold around her, one of the priests sarcastically asked the sacrifices “How are you getting on in there?”. When Diana answered “Ah. Not so bad.” She was immediately rescued.

The church is renowned for being inclusive of the LGBTQ+ community. This actually started accidentally. One day the message board outside the temple read “We love shirt-lifters”, and from that point onwards his gay following grew. The church leaders decided to keep very quiet about the fact that they originally put up the message to try and get a corporate sponsorship from Farrow’s Mushy Peas.

The church of Sithee runs a dating advice service, where young men can learn the art of elegant chat up lines. Amongst the tried and tested Yorkshire chat up lines you can learn are, the passionate “Brace thi’ssen Lass” and the more casual “Wake up”. The church also run a charitable emergency ambulance service. You can recognise their ambulances by their distinctive sirens which go, “Dee-da, dee-da, dee-da, dee-da”.

Should you decide to be initiated into the church of Sithee, be prepared to undergo a strange and dark Reyt. First one will be anointed with a special blend of Henderson’s Relish and River Don Water. Then one has to hold a ferret in one’s trousers whilst pouring molten steel from a crucible and forging it to make a Sheffield Steel knife. Only the most dedicated, steady handed and pain oblivious neophytes make it to full membership. If you make it however, you earn the privilege of calling all the other priests “Love”.

*No. You can’t see any rolling purple moors, dramatic views, secluded wooded valleys, elegant stately homes or picturesque parks. It’s all an optical illusion in your mind. Now keep quiet about it. If you tell anyone, they’ll just think you’re mad.

Thank you to Nick Ward for naming Sithee, and to Adam Broadhurst, Rebecca Stothard, Wesley Perriman, Cis Heaviside, Ju Haynes, Carrie-May Mealor, Pascal Harper, Will Bayley, Alex Smith, Carey Anne Boyce, Jozafeen Knights and Janet Hudson for piling in with loads of excellent suggestions. (So many in fact, that over the coming “Yorkshire Days” for the next three years there will be a deity for each area of the God’s own county.)

Idol Scribblings Volume Two
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A collection of 52 deities, ancient and modern, for all occations from Idol Scribblings. Produced in 2019-2020.

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Thank you for reading. If you have enjoyed this deity, please feel free to share it with your friends. New deities are published weekly. You can get alerted to new deities via Facebook through the Idol Scribbling Page or on Twitter by following @IdolScribblings . Catch up on the Pantheon so far here.

If you have a suggestion for a deity, you can suggest it by clicking this link. Alternatively, get in touch over on Facebook or Twitter. All due credit will be given.

Betty Swoobs – Goddess of Heatwaves

July 28, 2019October 15, 2020 ~ Hannah ~ Leave a comment

Betty Swoobs is the Goddess of Heatwaves in latitudes where extreme temperatures are only occasionally experienced. Sometimes known as the English Summer Goddess. She watches over all those who briefly bake in high summer temperatures approximately once a year. Wherever an air conditioner cannot be considered a reasonable long-term investment, wherever people sleep with but one foot under the duvet and whenever Linus puts down his blue blanket voluntarily, she is there.

Betty Swoobs is said to be comely in the form of her features, but strikingly unusual in her colouring. Beneath a tumbling mass of titian hair, is a face the hue of a boiled lobster dusted with golden freckles. As she is not at the coast where she would like to be, her visage constantly wears a miserable expression, known as her resting beach face. She is renowned for having a hot arse. This is because she drives a black celestial chariot with vinyl seats. Her thighs are quite badly burned too. She is a virgin goddess, though not by choice. It’s just that her thighs have been stuck together with sweat since 5763 BCE.

Her divine consort is Bheti Swallocks, the God of PVC trousers. However, her married status has never deterred the lusts of the Thunder God. This lustful rambling rumbler seems to follow her everywhere, stalking just a few hours behind her and trying to flash her, as she flees ahead of his massing clouds.

The faithful of Betty Swoobs meet for worship in the refrigerator aisles of supermarkets and freezer centres. Here they chill the atmosphere even more with a little prayer conditioning. A rite will last until a security guard asks them to move on or buy something. At which point they will blindly grab a random purchase from the “Seasonal Goods” aisle. The item they blindly select is said to be prophetically significant. As most rites of Betty Swoobs are held between June and August, this item is usually a pack of Christmas Cards.

Followers will also sometimes attempt to gather outdoors for a ritual alfresco meal. When they do, a sacrificial dish of jam is always placed a short distance from the party. Betty Swoobs is said to be constantly accompanied by a swarm of supernatural wasps known as the Narsti-Buggerz. This offering is an attempt to placate these wing-ed psychopaths and ensure a peaceful picnic.

Once a year, on once of these outings, they will hold a series of games to honour the goddess. The first event is a race in which you have to run back from an ice cream van with a 99 and eat it before it melts. This race is called “The Game of Cones”. If you win, you get to sit on the Iron Cone. This is not as must fun as it sounds. They also hold a competition to formulate the most effective sun block called “The SPF-X Factor”.

All music for ritual worship of Betty Swoobs is supplied from the stereos of passing cars, blasting out at the loudest possible volume to be sure of reaching the ears of the goddess. Thumping bass beats are said to please her most. She also enjoys the sound of lawn movers, strimmers and chain saws at 8.30am on a Sunday morning.

The head of the clergy is known by the title “Mrs Droughtfire”, and they assume feminine attire regardless of gender. The main task of Mrs Droughtfire is to walk the ancient paths across the moorlands and to practice human sacrifice on any blithering fool they see attempting to light a barbecue on the peaty soil. She will then pile stones over the remains to make a little cairn as a warning to others. Mrs Droughtfire always keeps a ceremonial pet bear of the sub-species Ursus fumus.

Betty Swoobs has no temples in Australia. The Australians find her whole faith hilarious. Instead they worship Troppo – God of Proper Scorchers.

Thank you to all the Hive Mind for chipping in and helping with Betty Swoobs, especially Janet Hudson and Adam Broadhurst.

If you have a suggestion for a deity, you can suggest it by clicking this link. Alternatively, get in touch over on Facebook or Twitter. All due credit will be given.

Banksia – Goddess of Modern Art

July 20, 2019October 15, 2020 ~ Hannah ~ Leave a comment

The Goddess Banksia was created when the Green Fairy of the Bohemian Revolution was splattered against the windscreen of Jackson Pollock’s speeding car. Banksia watches over all Modern, Contemporary and Conceptual Art and Artists. If you have to ask whether or not it is art, then it falls under the province of Banksia.

No one, in fact, really knows what Banksia looks like. Artists that have glimpsed her running through the corners of their drug induced nightmares have tried to record their impressions, but the results are very varied. Banksia is only the name we know her by. Her true name is a sacred secret held only by the High Priest. Unlike other gods (which you may be encouraged to “find”), NO ONE WANTS YOU TO FIND BANKSIA. The mystery will always be more enigmatic than the answer.

The first time you see a temple of Banksia the radical, conceptual,
brutalist architecture of the exterior may make you wonder whether the building is a ground-breaking work of art or just still under construction. Above the main entrance the letters W.T.F. are carved into the stonework. The rooms inside the temple are mostly either light, airy galleries or studios. The galleries are the only areas where the general public are allowed. (The Avant Security Guards control access.) They are painted in 38 different shades of white and are almost bare but for the sacred works displayed and the occasional pew. By contrast the studios are cluttered rats nests that “are exactly the way we like it so don’t you dare touch a thing”.

Each temple of Banksia also has a room where devotees can go for comfort when they are drowning in depressive thoughts that their art is contrived, unoriginal and valueless. This is called the Negative Space. There is also a tea room. By day this may seem a pleasant and innocent place, somewhere to sit and cogitate on creativity, but dark rumours circulate about Banksia’s tea rooms. By night they are said to be used to carry out a horrendous torture on transgressors of the faith. The victim is said to be cruelly force fed scones. They are made to munch until they scream.

The final room you might visit in the temple is the smallest one. A post-modernist bathroom installation known as the Po-Mo (by R. Mutt). Whatever you do, do not actually use it. It’s not plumbed in and it has a price tag which means it will be the most expensive penny you ever spend. If you are a neophyte artist, as you leave the temple, feel free to help yourself from the box of goodwill donated art materials. These were originally given to the higher echelons priesthood as gifts by well-meaning friends who didn’t realise that they would have been happier with a donation of half a pint of menstrual blood and a cup of population paste to paint with.

The Priesthood of Banksia are seen by outsiders as somewhat… …well let’s use the kind term “eccentric”. They have either come to the faith at a young age and been driven mad by the relentless pursuit of artistic perfection, or they were a bit nutty to begin with and were advised to join the faith as a form of therapy. They proudly wear their official robes of office, which look like paint streaked old shirts. They always have unruly manes of hair, for of the hundred or so brushes that each priest owns, not one of them is a hairbrush. (Or a sweeping brush.) When one stands within about 50 meters of a priest of Banksia, one can detect their distinctive perfume, a blend of linseed oil and turpentine. The current High Priest in residence is Mr Art Majors.

Because an artist’s work tends to increase in value after the artists death. The thing a Banksian dreads most is seeing their doctor coming into the temple gallery and buying all of their paintings. When the mortal coil finally ends, the church of Banskia offers unconventional funerary services, open to all who wish to achieve a kind of aesthetic immortality. Their firm of funeral directors Van Hagens & Hirst are amazingly popular. You can be your own beautiful memento mori! If you attend a Banksian funeral, it is important to show the proper respect for the deceased by speaking in dead pantones.

The church of Banksia is not typically a wealthy one. The principal revenue raiser is the sale of Modern and Conceptual Artworks produced by the clergy. A very few of the higher clergy can demand exorbitantly high prices for their work. It is just as well, as they are needed to subsidise the rest of the clergy. Who, when they do sell a piece, usually make less profit than the person who framed it. The Monochromist sect are the only acolytes to actually generate a reliable, regular income for the faith. As a side-line they make those paint colour cards you can pick up at the DIY warehouse. They also sometimes name new colour shades using the rejected working titles for their own artwork. This is why there is a shade of bluish green non drip gloss called Poseidon’s Vomit. If any surplus income remains after the maintenance of the temple and the clergy, then it is invested in public arts. Their next planned project is the building of a giant steel protractor at the side of the A1 near Gateshead (working title “The Angle of the North”). Following this there is a plan to build an enormous statue of the Hamburglar overlooking the M1 near Sheffield (working title “The Man of Steal”).

Should you decide to visit a temple of Banksia for a little enlightenment one rainy Sunday afternoon, be very careful what you say whilst inside. If anyone is heard to utter the blasphemous words “Huh! I could have done that.” in her temple, one of the priests will thwack them around the head with a large, heavy marble tablet inscribed with the words “Yeah. But you didn’t!”

A note:
There are references to 15 Modern and Contemporary artists / art works in this picture. Have fun finding
them all. If you get stuck, I will do a little post with the answers next weekend.

Thank you to James R Turner (@JRTwrites) for suggesting Banksia.

If you have a suggestion for a deity, you can suggest it by clicking this link. Alternatively, get in touch over on Facebook or Twitter. All due credit will be given.

Eric – God of Pub Games

July 7, 2019October 15, 2020 ~ Hannah ~ Leave a comment

Eric, the God of Pub Games is an extremely Ancient Deity. He is known to predate the founding of the Olympic Games in 776 BCE. He was the patron deity of the earlier and now forgotten Olympub Games. The date that the Olympub games were founded is now lost to antiquity, but they may have begun the first time the Mesopotamians gathered and competed to throw a loop of string over a stick whilst consuming dangerous quantities of proto-ale. The religion spread rapidly, and the first temple to Eric was built as a simple circle of tall, dark, rectangular standing stones, each bearing a pattern of white dots, stood on their ends. This design was soon copied many times across the ancient world in what seems to have been a kind of domino effect.

The worship of Eric centres around developing the mind, body and character through the playing of social games of skill and chance. These are also believed to bond communities, families and friends together through communal worship. Some detractors say that the religion of Eric is a load of Bulls Hit, but his faithful will tell you he’s okey.

Eric’s modern places of worship are less like Temples and more like Saloons. The interior décor of the temple trends heavily towards dark green leather, baize and wood panelling. It is divided into 9 different chapels, each dedicated to one of the 9 Sacred Sports; darts, pool, billiards, poker, cribbage, skittles, dice, ring toss and shove ha’penny. His temples often have quirky colloquial names such as “The Ham and Cheese”, “The Shuffle and Board” and “The Curly Cue”. Outside the main structure is an over spill marquee for special festivals. It is in the shape of two large adjoined circus tents. This structure is known as the “double top”. Every temple also has a small crowd of bored children sat outside on some broken swings. Each one forlornly clutches a bottle of Vimto with a straw and a bag of crisps.

The Chapel of Darts is great, smashing and super. However, it can be a risky place to enter. Some people see the flying projectiles inside and immediately do a 180 and leave. Competitions are held here and even if you are not successful in these, they will still give you a chance to look at what you could have won. If you do succeed… …well bully for you! Those worshippers who are “Knowers” rather than “Throwers” come to try and overcome their “Projectile Dysfunction” through therapy and prayer. Treatments at the temple can be expensive, so most only resort to it when they are in the throws of despair. The Chapel of Darts also contains a confessional where one can gain spiritual solace and atonement by divulging ones darty secrets. If you are travelling to visit the Chapel of Darts, it is best to avoid cheap flights. Don’t worry about your return journey, as you will always, at least, leave with your bus fare home… …or a speed boat. Which will be handy for making your way back to Wolverhapton.

The Chapel of Pool is perhaps the tensest place in the temple. Here worshippers stare one another out to see who will break first. The corridor to the chapel has a lengthy line of 50p’s laid along it’s length. Anyone arriving and arbitrarily deciding that “winner stays on” will be forced to eat a hundred cubes of blue chalk. The Chapel of Pool is particularly popular with younger members of the faith. They often study there in hopes of being professional pool players when they grow up. Until they realise they can’t have it both ways. Worshippers are welcome to stay all day, but are asked to pop outside if they need to pot a brown or get the urge to sink the pink.

The Priests and Priestesses of Eric organise and arbitrate all the games within the temple. They each have 4 suits of vestments, two red and two black, which each have their own symbolism. The High Priestess is renowned for her stern and unemotional visage. However much you are tempted, you are advised not to poke her face to see if it’s real.

Thank you to Adam Broadhurst for suggesting Eric.

If you have a suggestion for a deity, you can suggest it by clicking this link. Alternatively, get in touch over on Facebook or Twitter. All due credit will be given.

Thaw – God of Broken Freezers

July 3, 2019October 15, 2020 ~ Hannah ~ Leave a comment

Wherever the constant background hum falls silent, Thaw is there. A visitation from Thaw can end up costing you a lot of lolly.

Thaw’s association with broken appliances probably derives from his tendency to try and mend things with his “mighty hammer”. In mythology, Scampi (the God of Seafood and Mischief) grew fed up with Thaw’s percussion engineering and not having any ice for his mead. Also, he “Had a whole box of Magnums in there man!”. Enraged, Scampi forced a Crown of Prawns onto Thaw’s head.

Thaw’s temples are usually simple white box-like buildings which have a distressing smell and a large puddle of water outside the front door. Many are upright structures with a single, large front door. Some are low, long and squat and accessed via an opening roof. In the USA the temples have a distinct “double front door” style.

His priests are known for being a bit “snowflake”, in that they will frequently break down and lose their cool. Despite this, they usually maintain themselves in good physical condition. The Elder Priest is said to have the body of an 18 year old, or at least he did until his freezer broke. Nonetheless, they are a close knit college, and should you join them, you will make lots of cool friends.

The great annual festival of Thaw is called “Deliquesce” and it takes place on the day after the first eight hour long power cut of the year. Thawians will cook and eat every scrap of food in their stores in a frenzy “before it goes off”, (including that tub of mystery brown liquid and chunks that was probably a homemade soup once upon a time) and a great feast is shared. At Deliquesce Thawian parents will traditionally give their children gifts of brand new fridges. Many parents will sentimentally enjoy watching the little ones’ faces light up as they open them.

Many people have found enlightenment through the way of Thaw. The words “I was blind, but now icy.” are often repeated in his sacred texts and anthems. It is forbidden by Thaw to take a slice of lemon in your drink. When offered ice and lemon at a pub, a Thawian will cry for just ice.

When a Thawian passes away they will be given a traditional funeral by their family. For these events, professional mourners are always hired, known as the “Cry O’re Genics”. Then the deceased is frozen and interred in a sub-zero crypt. A Thawian crypt can be identified as the words “Icy Dead People” are always carved over the entrance.

People also pray to Thaw when the icebox is taking too frigging long to defrost.

Thank you to Janet Hudson for suggesting Thaw.

If you have a suggestion for a deity, you can suggest it by clicking this link. Alternatively, get in touch over on Facebook or Twitter. All due credit will be given.

Arthur Thought – The Holy Spirit of the Staircase

June 30, 2019October 15, 2020 ~ Hannah ~ Leave a comment

Arthur Thought, the holy spirit of the staircase, is the god of perfect ripostes that you think of approximately 5 minutes too late. He was the youngest of the seven offspring of Catatonica – The Celtic Goddess of Speechlessness. He was born a full century after his youngest sibling.

The temples of Arthur Thought always take the form of a small original building which has been extended multiple times with a complex of additional lean-tos. It seems that as soon as one extension is finished, they find that their numbers of followers have grown, so that they need to start planning yet another. This gives his temples a very distinctive, slightly drunken, look.

Being a god of staircases, there are a plethora of them installed in his temples. None of these staircases actually go anywhere, but are beautifully designed and decorated as meditation spaces. They are known as the “Flights of Fancy”. If you tour the temple you will see the acolytes, each sat on their own step, deep in contemplation about what they would’ve, could’ve, should’ve said. Practising “Thoughtians” will also sit of the Flights of Fancy to plan what they will say in upcoming potentially difficult social encounters. To the outside observer, this may seem like a fruitless endeavour, as these meetings will almost never play out as one imagines.

Should you attend a ritual at the temple, you may find the homily or sermon from the priest or priestess a little unusual. At this point of the rite the presiding member of the clergy will stand before the massed, expectant faithful and make silent gaping fish motions with their mouth for a few minutes. Then they will make a high pitched whine and run from the altar, in tears, with their robes over their head. Don’t worry, this is a traditional part of the proceedings, and their fellow priests are standing by to stop them from burying themselves under a rock. The Thoughtian priesthood are renowned for practicing a rare form of martial art where one beats oneself up. This is said to so confuse and terrify one’s attacker that they end up leaving you alone. The High Priest or Priestess is the one who can descend the fewest steps before thinking of a cutting come back when insulted at the top of the stairs (and are therefore literally the highest of the clergy).

The church of Arthur Thought publishes a popular almanac which retro-predicts what you should have said last year. It also reports barely believable, miraculous cases where “La mot juste” came to someone at exactly the right time, against all the odds. If you visit the home of a devout follower, you will find they have several editions of “The Thoughtian Times” on their bookshelves. They will also often be found listening to the excellent album by the gothic band “The Way of All Flesh” called “Espirit d’Escallier”, which they consider to be a sacred musical work.

Arthur Thought has many equivalent avatars in different cultures around the world. Known as Æfterwitt to the Saxons, Treppenwitz to the ancient Germanic tribes, Retractus to the Ancient Romans and Metametis to the Ancient Greeks. Which only goes to show that the phenomenon he embodies is universal to the human condition.

I am sure that I will recall loads more hilarious facts about this deity approximately five minutes after I have sent this to press.

Thank you to a new Hive Mind member, Alan Boyce, for suggesting Arthur Thought. Welcome to the club!

If you have a suggestion for a deity, you can suggest it by clicking this link. Alternatively, get in touch over on Facebook or Twitter. All due credit will be given.

Butterman – God of Super Heros

June 25, 2019October 15, 2020 ~ Hannah ~ Leave a comment

Butterman is not the first hero, but he does have a strong claim to be the first superhero. We know of his exploits from original Roman frescoes, mosaics and murals. Unusually for the period, the stories are told over several sequential pictures and are captioned with little Latin inscriptions in speech bubbles.

Like most Superheros, Butterman has something unusual in his genetic make-up. His beautiful mortal mother Lactea was seduced by both Jupiter and his cup bearer Catamitus at the same time in a mythic menage a trois. Unlike Danae’s experience of being impregnated by a golden shower, this was more like two Olymians, one churn. Lactea raised her son to be as normal as possible, but this was not to be. His demi divine parentage meant he excelled in the mortal world. By his late twenties he had become a distinguished Roman General and Statesman. After a highly successful campaign he was féted as the cream of Rome with a triumphal procession.

As tradition dictated, throughout the parade an Auriga slave stood by his ear repeatedly whispering, “Remeber you are but a man” for the whole day. (They do this to stop the celebrated person from milking it too much). Now he romes Rome by night fighting crime and injustice as “Butterman!”.

Needing to conceal his true identity, he developed the first incognito super hero costume. Wearing his subligaculum* over his tunic may not have been the best “look”, but it certainly started something. After a few years as a solo crime fighter, he was recruited a mysterious side kick known only as Ghee-Whiz who was said to be from a land far to the east. Together they destroy those who’s actions are beyond the pail and rewards the virtuous with a little pat on the head.

Unlike later superheroes, Butterman could not fly. However, he had the ability to slide through the streets of Rome at high speed on his buttered sandals. In times of dire need the Vigiles could summon Butterman by lighting the beacon which projects the “Butt Signal” into the night sky. On busy nights he could end up spread very thin.

Butterman has averted wide scale disaster on many occasions. When Hannibal and his herd of elephants came over the alps he helped save thousands of Romans from drowning. His super arch enemy is a snack chariot driving demon called Marge.

Even in his own mortal lifetime, Butterman inspired copy-cat have-a-go heroes. One went as far as to have the temerity to pretend to be Butterman himself. He made a poor show of it though, and the plebians sarcastically nicknamed him “I Can’t Believe It’s Not Butterman”. In the end this obsessed wretch was arrested for Storking.

The only people who knew his true identity were his wife Flora and Alfredus the Butterler (who maintains the Butt Cave). He was also said to have been romantically linked to the notorious courtesan Kerry Gold. Much as he loves the city of Rome, he secretly prefers the country life, and likes to get away now and again to roll in clover.

Having two fathers, Butterman is worshipped by many same sex couples. Those embarking on the journey to become parents will often make sacrifices of dairy products at the temple together. In fact he is so popular with the LGBTQ+ community that each of his temples has a little Pride themed charity gift shop called “Momento Homo”.

Temples of Butterman have impressive frontages with elegant columns shaped like milk churns. The windows of the temple are made of paper rubbed with grease until they became transparent.

Priest and Priestesses of Butterman alwsys carry a symbolic replica of Butterman’s weapon “The Butter Knife” to represent defending the vulnerable. For special occasions a full size reproduction is worn. For more convenient everyday wear, they can opt for the smaller, retractable “Stan Lee Knife”. The High Priestess is known as the Shea-Rah. The motto of the priesthood is, “Look after one an udder.”

Oh, and if you were wondering how Butterman achieved full immortality. Before a mighty battle of the Gods, he applied butter to Jupiter’s thunderbolts for him. Thus inventing the much faster and deadlier “greased lightning”. In recognition of this great deed, he was granted apotheosis and ascended to Olympus. Butterman was no longer but a man.

*That’s a loincloth to you.

Thank you to Dave Redford and Nicky Bailey for your help with Butterman.

If you have a suggestion for a deity, you can suggest it by clicking this link. Alternatively, get in touch over on Facebook or Twitter. All due credit will be given.

RaRaRa – God of Cheerleaders

June 19, 2019October 15, 2020 ~ Hannah ~ Leave a comment

Need a little motivation to get you through Hump Day? Then Ra Ra Ra could be the deity for you. He’s the God that’s always cheering you on to be your best.

The Temple of RaRaRa is built around the blessed “Hand Spring” and close to the summer salt mines. The compound is planted with an impressive orchard of a unique variety of apple tree. These grow an unusual “double apple” fruit known as Pomme-Pommes. The temple building has four wings with a rectangular central courtyard, known as the Squadwrangle, where larger scale worship takes place. Its roof is adorned with many decorative aerials.

His temples have (possibly) the most entertaining services, which always follow a strict routine. The priesthood will guide you in waving your offerings of sacred pomme-pomme fruits in the air and lead you in a rousing chorus of “Give Him an Ankh!” Conducting the worship is arduous for the clergy. So, before they commence they will traditionally drink some root beer to get them rootin’. At the most hallowed part of the ritual, worshippers will share the Holy Hot Dog and all partake of a sip of soda from the JumboMegaCup. After a short break, a guest speaker will usually deliver a half time show sermon. This sermon will often be a subject of furious online debate amongst the worshippers,. Afterwards, as you leave, be sure to pick up a souvenir from the “Tuck Shop”.

There is a large seminary college where postulates are trained for religious service. The first thing they learn is that cheering is a serious athletic endeavour. They must be prepared to exceed those they support in gymnastic prowess. They are also taught to expect and forbear low wages and a general lack of respect. Students are kept company by a friendly ghost who inhabits the building, known affectionately as “The School Spirit”. The college uniform colour is yeller.

The church of RaRaRa rarely involves itself in politics. When they have ventured into the hustings, their candidates have been known to flip flop.

Members of this faith will often save all their lives to be interred in the largest human pyramid possible after death. Followers will often involve themselves in the study of astronomy throughout life. They believe that after death, the journey to the afterlife takes us to become one with the heavens and it is best to know the route in advance. They believe that potentially we are All-Stars.

If you have a suggestion for a deity, you can suggest it by clicking this link. Alternatively, get in touch over on Facebook or Twitter. All due credit will be given.

Octopussy – God of Nuclear Power

June 15, 2019October 15, 2020 ~ Hannah ~ Leave a comment

The original atomic kitten, Octopussy was created when Schroedinger and Einstein were watching their figures, declared that they couldn’t possibly eat a whole atom each, and decided to split one. Using the get-out claws on the ends of each of its eight limbs, Octopussy fought its way painfully out of Schroedinger’s box (settling that thought experiment once and for all). The tentacle tailed feline of nightmares set forth to shower it’s radiance upon the world. A relatively modern god, dating only from the last century, the genesis of Octopussy is already used to mark the start of a new age. Members of the faith will refer to the time before as “Before Octopussy” or “B.O.” as it was also before the invention of Right Guard.

The clergy of Octopussy are divided into the ranks of Alpha, Beta and Gamma. Gamma priests are those who have penetrated furthest into the ranks of the church and are allowed into the most hallowed parts of the temple. The most sacred of these is the dungeon where the Holy Higgs Bosons are kept. They are absolutely essential to the faith and they cannot have a mass without them. They are carefully guarded by the Dungeoness who watches over them.

As can often be the case in faiths around the world, there is always a danger that the movement may run away with itself. Therefore the faith is governed as a Diocracy, with two leaders to balance one another. One has a duty to drive the word of Octopussy forward and is known as the “Fuel”. The other serves to consider and check progress to a reasonable rate of change and is known as the “Control”. Both the current incumbents of the role are called Rodney. The current Control, Rod, is a usually a very absorbing gentleman, but he can tend to boron sometimes.

The outer temple complex is vast and houses several businesses run by the clergy. You can dine in their highly successful restaurant where they serve fusion foods drawing on the cuisines of all the countries of the world where there are followers of Octopussy. They always receive glowing reviews and are particularly famed for their fission chips. (Sadly the “Cold Fusion Foods” buffet is no longer available. Some say it never was and is but a myth.) One can also stop for a pint in the “Duck and Cover” an olde style English pub. They serve beers from their own microbrewery which include their famous heavy “Water”. Whilst they have grown recently, in the past these revenue raisers were not always enough to fund the temple upkeep. Originally the complex was surrounded by miles of farm land that they held. This has now dwindled to a few acres, as every time they hit at tight patch they been forced to sell a field.

The holy texts of Octopussy are comprised of several separate books by different prophets. Whilst the book of Deuterium is said to be heavy going, I have heard that the Book of Protium is un-put-down-able.

If you should meet a follower of Octopussy at a party, don’t be surprised if they overheat and have a bit of a meltdown on the dance floor if Diana Ross’s Chain Reaction comes on. They can be a little unstable at their core.

If you have a suggestion for a deity, you can suggest it by clicking this link. Alternatively, get in touch over on Facebook or Twitter. All due credit will be given.

Piccaeolus – God of Flautists

June 13, 2019October 15, 2020 ~ Hannah ~ Leave a comment

Piccaeolus is a musical deity with equivalent avatars in the pantheons of many cultures. He is also known as Kazooka, Flautulus, Djethro and Flautingale. He watches over all wind musicians, particularly the little baby piccolo players. The story of his origin states that he was a mortal war child (yes, he was living, in the past) from Rock Island. He shot to fame with his musical performance in a benefit Passion Play. Whilst out one night on storm watch, he was wearing the crest of a knave and a broadsword. This attracted a lightning strike which scorched him and the tree he was stood under from roots to branches. He was resurrected by a remorseful thunder god and elevated to the godhood to serve as minstrel to the gods. Initially the thunder god wanted to keep this under wraps, but Piccaeolus couldn’t wait to stand up and was soon bursting out.

The Temple of Piccaeolus is located in Galway. It is a tall, narrow, cylindrical stone tower with nine ovoid windows. It is carved from silvery andesite and features elegant fluted columns. It, perhaps sensibly, does not have any glass in the windows. At all times within the temple there will be two flutes being played by a minstrel in the gallery. They play the sacred music of Piccaeolus in unison with a minor second interval. There are no temple cats. If there were any they fled long ago. The temple has never ever been cleaned inside, although the outside is very shiny. Hidden to the rear is a constantly dripping outflow tap from which a clear, slimy substance drips constantly.

At the Temple flautists can partake in lessons from the priests. The priesthood are renowned experts in tonging and you will marvel at their fingering technique. You cannot help but improve under their tutelage. They can even teach you the techniques of “Survival Musicianship”. For example making emergency flutes carved from cucumbers. These makeshift instruments are known as Pickle-os. The sacred text of Piccaeolus “Songs from the Wood” will form the core of your syllabus. Be sure to be attentive and keep up in lessons. You don’t want them to think you’re thick as a brick. (Sadly Piccaeolus himself is illiterate. He doesn’t reed at all.)

The priests and priestesses of Piccaeolus also often act as trusted, secure couriers of valuable and sensitive items. They place the items in their care into flute cases, as this means they will never, ever get stolen. However, should you attempt to intercept them, beware! They practice a deadly martial art which involves firing darts from transverse blow-pipes whist standing on one leg to confuse the enemy. The priesthood and more devout followers of Piccaeolus can be recognised by the wearing of the traditional “Soul Stice” prayer bells around the feet. The most devout sect of all go everywhere riding heavy horses and wearing aqualungs.

The followers of Piccaeolus are renowned for all being a little eccentric. In truth every one’s a fruit and nut case. Within the faith of Piccaeolus it is possible to marry one’s musical instrument. In fact, many senior priests do this as an act of devotion. This unusual wedding ritual is very beautiful and moving. Guests will often tear up when the High Priest says “I now pronounce you Man and Fife”. The faith of Piccaeolus is for life. You are still welcome in their community when you’re too old to rock and roll.

Piccaeolus is a joint effort between Wendy Barrows, Pascal Harper, John Kennard, Carey Anne Boyce and Ju Haynes. Thank you for your puntastic assistance. We would jointly like to send our humble apologies to Mr Ian Anderson for the liberties we have taken.

If you have a suggestion for a deity, you can suggest it by clicking this link. Alternatively, get in touch over on Facebook or Twitter. All due credit will be given.